Shadow Rising: Awakening
by wannabeWriter888
Summary: Episode 1: Dr. Tommy Merlyn returns home to see his dying mother, and receives a dire warning. He begins to have visions and discovers the reality he thought he knew is a lie, and that even trusted friends hold dangerous secrets. Will he surviving this rough awakening? AU. No superheroes. Hopefully a better story inside.
1. Part One

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Arrow_ , the DC comics, _Supernatural_ , _Grimm_ or _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ \- I just borrowed characters and elements of those shows for my own amusement.

 **A/N:** This is what I consider the "pilot" episode of a series. The episode is complete and I'll post it all eventually, whether or not I continue to develop the series will depend on how long my interest remains with the project. This episode is set in 2012 with the actors playing close to their actual ages at the time. Constructive criticism is appreciated and pleasant reviews enjoyed.

* * *

Starring: Colin Donnell, Stephen Amell, Katie Cassidy, David Ramsey, Willa Holland, Audrey Marie Anderson

Guest Starring: Andie McDowell (Rebecca Merlyn), Susanna Thompson, Jessica De Gouw, Jacqueline MacInnes Wood (Sarah), Kelly Hu, Summer Glau, Amy Gumenick, Roger Cross, John Barrowman, Ryan Robbins, Kathleen Gati, Terrell Ransom Jr. (JJ Diggle)

* * *

Part One

Yellow eyes gleamed in the settling dusk. A wind whistled through the park situated on the edge of the city. A rabbit nibbled on its dinner, upwind of the wolf. The wolf inched forward in a crouch. The rabbit paused; its nose twitched as it scented the air, and tensed. The wolf's hind legs tightened in preparation for the opening salvo of a life-and-death chase. Then a ribbon of flame whipped through the trees. The rabbit bolted but the wolf paused in confusion, an almost human intelligence replacing instinct. An instant later the ribbon of fire slapped the wolf's flank. Now instinct overrode intelligence, but it was too late.

The wolf bound in the opposite direction of the rabbit. A square wall of fire burst a quarter-inch off the forest floor, cutting off the most direct route out of the woods. The wolf skidded to a halt mere inches from the searing blaze. The fringes of his fur curled and smoked as he took off in a new direction. He tried to course correct, to flee the park, and return to civilization where he knew he'd be safe. Another square of flames blocked him and then another followed, forcing him back into the park. Each time he tried to pick a new direction a wall of fire prevented him, and the ribbon of flame lashed at him, corralling him.

A clearing appeared. The wolf recognized the end, his end. The sparks ahead told him before he arrived. He wanted to run in any other direction, but fire hemmed him on the sides and the ribbon whipped behind. The wolf entered the clearing, snarling. The walls of searing heat and light enclosed around him. He spun around, seeking a break, but there was none. The heat was suffocating; fear, human and animal, pierced his body. Six dark forms cast shadows through the flames as they walked through the fire, tightening their net around the wolf. A laughter, cruel and female, echoed in the night. The wolf howled.

SR*SR*SR

 _An emancipated boy lying in a cot, reaching with a skin-and-bone hand for help. A woman in a gele wept over her husband's prone form. Black and red flesh from second- and third-degree burns. The busted remains of leg that had had the misfortune to meet a landmine. Blood and broken bones, so much blood. A wolf writhing on the floor, yellow eyes shifting to blue, a man whipped and burned, then a wolf again. Howls of pain._

Thomas Merlyn woke with a gasp. He shot up in his bed and for a moment expected to hear the rat-tat-tat of machine guns in the distance. Sweat slicked down his back and he sucked in a ragged breath. His pulse raced from the nightmare; the memories of the horrors he'd seen, all smashed together. When his mind at last recognized the guest bedroom he'd been loaned, Tommy calmed down. He untangled from the sweat-soaked sheet and padded his way to the en suite. Water gushed out of the faucet as Tommy held onto the rim of the sink, his head bowed. After several calming breaths, he cupped his hands under the cleansing flow and bent his head lower. Scentless, chilly water splashed against his face and washed away the last traces of his nightly terror. He ran his dripping hands through his hair and down the back of his neck. Then he turned off the tap and patted his skin dry with a hand towel.

He observed himself in the mirror, the bathroom half-lit from the rising sun. A three-day-old beard, tense shoulders, and dark bags under blood-shot eyes. He looked a wreck. The nightmares certainly weren't helping. The wolf was a new part to the ever-repeating montage of his worst cases. For a moment he'd felt the man's pain, had felt as if he were transforming from human into beast himself, and had been beaten and starved for days. The terror he'd felt as that wolf, that had been what had woken him up. He wondered what his subconscious mind was trying to help him sort through with the image of the wolf. Could be a few things, and psychiatry was not his specialty. Still, Tommy couldn't get back to sleep; not after that dream. He walked over to the sofa and hunted around for the remote to the TV. An hour or two of mindless distraction would have to suffice instead.

SR*SR*SR

The sleek, silver Aston Martin whipped around the other car on the road. In the passenger seat, Tommy resisted the urge to hold onto the door for dear life. A glance at the speedometer showed sure enough, they were cruising along at a hundred miles an hour. One hand on the wheel, wearing a dark pair of shades despite the overcast sky, Oliver Queen smirked at his childhood best friend. One part loyal, two parts reckless, and devoted to living life on the edge; that was Oliver in a nutshell.

Tommy wouldn't have survived medical school if not for Oliver. When the workload threatened to overwhelm him, Oliver was there to drag him out of the books for a decompressing night on the town and a decent amount of sleep. Any time Tommy voiced doubts about following in his mother's footsteps, Oliver reminded him of all that he'd accomplished already and could do, if he persevered. Oliver may not have known what he wanted out of life, but he certainly knew how to be a great friend.

As they neared the busier roads leading into Seattle, Oliver slowed closer to the speed limit. The police would be more prevalent now. Oliver was reckless, but occasionally responsible, and he didn't want to get a ticket. Traffic picked up, forcing Oliver to slow further as they made their way towards the hospital.

"You sure you want to do this, now? We could always get a drink first," Oliver offered as signs started directing them to their destination.

"It's nine-thirty in the morning, what bar is open?" Tommy retorted, a small grin breaking.

"Well, for you, mine is open and free," Oliver replied with a proud quirk of the lips.

"You mean you haven't burnt that place to the ground yet?" Tommy joked.

"Now you sound like my mother." That reminder, unintentional as it was, drove a nail through Tommy's chest. His grin disappeared, the humor lost. Oliver apologized.

"It's fine," Tommy answered, a little stiff but his voice devoid of the pain in his chest; "Thank you – for the offer. And thank you, for letting me crash at your place."

"You're family Tommy, you're welcome any time."

Tommy nodded to acknowledge he'd heard. Family was a touchy subject for him, but he appreciated the place the Queens had made for him in their family, and they knew it. They drove the last leg in silence.

SR*SR*SR

The hospice wing carried the same antiseptic smell and feeling of emptiness as the rest of the hospital. Tommy disliked the scent of death and hollow heart that clung to a hospital, despite his profession. Perhaps that was why he'd jumped at the chance to work in a third-world country after his residency ended. He'd had no strings tethering him to the city, no loans to worry about as his parents had paid for his schooling, and he'd been thinking his stories might impress some women. He'd thought he'd have an interesting experience, then come back home and join his mom's clinic, make her proud.

The people he'd met in that war-torn country had showed him what a self-centered fool he was. He'd done his best but lost so many. And the faces of those he couldn't help would be with him forever. A part of him had wanted to stay in the end, but the part of him that knew he couldn't take much more had been relieved to go home. He just wished he'd come back to happier news. Not this.

He found the door that read: Merlyn, R. For a breath, he hesitated, and then steeled his nerves. He twisted the handle and walked into the dimly-lit room. The heart monitor beeped in normal sinus rhythm. Her oxygen levels sat low, even with the tube down her nose, but that wasn't unexpected with her body shutting down on her. A morphine drip snaked along the edge of her bed and into her pale arm. A splashy, yellow and blue bandana wrapped around her head and provided the only color in the room besides the burgundy roses. The flowers were from his father; she didn't even like roses, she preferred daisies. Though she'd been sleeping when he arrived, as Tommy settled into the chair next to her, Rebecca Merlyn stirred.

"Tommy?" she rasped.

"I'm here Mom, I'm here," he grasped her stretching hand between his own. Her hand was so cold and frail. His mom had never been frail to him before. Her eyes found him, alert and intense even as her body failed her.

"I have so much... I need to tell... you," Rebecca whispered, then paused due to a dry mouth. Tommy found a plastic cup filled with water beside her bed. He brought the straw to her lips and helped her take a few small sips. She weakly patted his hand in thanks. "Don't push yourself Mom, just rest."

"No, you don't… understand. When I die…the gift, the gift… will pass, to you."

"I don't want to talk about money Mom."

"Not your trust fund… I thought, I thought we'd have… more time…I wanted to prepare you … but even I couldn't… see this, see my end… I'm so sorry Thomas, so sorry," a tear welled in her eye. Tommy brushed it off her cheek and soothingly rubbed her shoulder.

"It's alright Mom. Don't upset yourself, I'm okay."

"Listen to me Tommy," Rebecca grabbed his hand and mustered the last of her energy, knowing they wouldn't have enough time; "You're going to awaken. The world you think you know is only one side of the truth. Once my gift passes to you, you'll see. You'll have visions of what is to come, what might be. They're only the beginning. You must prepare yourself, you must stop it. Find the journals, they'll explain what I cannot."

Then Rebecca collapsed back on her bed. Her rhythm turned tachycardic and she heaved. A seizure hit, and Tommy pulled her onto her side as nurses rushed in. They pushed him out of the way and reminded him he didn't have privileges at their hospital. The doctor on duty arrived and tweaked her lorazepam line. His mom settled down and drifted off again. After the medical staff left, Tommy returned to his seat. He tugged her blanket up higher and watched her sleep. She had an inoperable oligoastrocytoma; the brain tumor had been messing with her mind for months. Her stories about demons and witches had been the symptoms that at last alerted people to her failing health. They'd been too late.

His mom had been dying and Tommy had been half the world away. She'd held on long enough for him to return home to say goodbye, but her mind was too far gone to have the conversations he wanted. Tommy wiped away the tears streaking down his cheeks and took her hand again. He was here now, that was all that mattered.

SR*SR*SR

Dressed in only his boxers, Tommy turned off the lights in the bathroom. He took a sip of water from the glass he kept near his bed, then slipped under the sheets. He clicked off the nightstand lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Hopefully tonight he'd have a peaceful REM cycle. He should've known better.

The nightmare started out the way they all did. He was back in the med tent. The doors flapped to a nonexistent wind, revealing the arid landscape outside. He was arctic chilly inside. A dozen cots lay on either side of him, neatly made with thin brown blankets and thin white pillows. He was alone. Then in a blink, one cot held a man. Bloodied, in pain, hand reaching out for aide. He froze; stethoscope in one hand, syringe in the other. The man on the bed groaned. Revulsion choked him.

Then the nightmare twisted. The man on the cot changed into a white man with yellow eyes. The cots disappeared, the medical tent too. Tommy found himself neither here nor there in the dream and semi-alert. He was a spirit observing the dream-world. He saw the white man's back. He'd been stripped naked. Bruises and lashes covered his back. Chains held the man to the floor; thick, silvery chains that rattled with every wheezing moan. Water dripped unsteadily and slow in the distance.

Tommy cringed, and the man vanished. An inferno roared around him. Dark orange, angry red, pinpoints of white, and flickers of blue and violet flames. The blaze rose ten, twelve feet above his head. Heat ate at the very marrow of his bones. The flares cackled. He tried to suck in a breath and couldn't breathe.

The inferno whooshed away. He found himself in darkness. A wolf howled, high and rapidly. No other voices joined. Then a scaled, black hand with claws for fingers reached out of a fiery pit. The hand reached up and up, seeking to grab Tommy. He flailed his arms, trying to go higher, to get out of the way. He instinctively knew that if that monstrous hand touched him, he'd die. The white man appeared again. His face huge and directly in front of Tommy. His eyes weren't yellow this time, but blue and filled with fear. "Help me! Please! Help me!" the face begged, searing its façade into Tommy's mind.

Tommy gasped, and his eyes snapped open.

SR*SR*SR

Coffee, black, steamed in the mug. Tommy picked up the cup and wandered back into the Queens' parlor. He was having brunch with Oliver and his family. The food was all ready and sitting in the dining room, they were just waiting on Thea Queen to tromp downstairs. Oliver's younger sister seemed to enjoy arriving fashionably late to everything. Moira had marched up the stairs a short while ago to usher her daughter down at a reasonable hour.

Oliver sat on a peach-colored sofa in the parlor; the television on but muted. Tommy meandered over to the alcohol and debated spiking his drink, just a little. A flash on the screen caught his eye. He turned to look and nearly dropped his mug. Hot coffee sloshed onto his hand. Tommy yelped and cursed. He set the cup down and shook his stinging appendage.

"You alright there?" Oliver turned around to glance at him.

"I'm fine. Just needed a jolt of coffee to wake me up," Tommy deadpanned. Oliver chortled and returned to the news.

Tommy headed for the nearest linen closet where he knew the Queens' housekeeper kept towels. He looked at the television one more time before he left the room. The white man from his dream had his face plastered on the screen. According to the headline he was a local hero who'd suddenly gone missing. Tommy had never seen his face before this morning, so how had he dreamed about the man the night before?

Moira and Thea made it downstairs while Tommy finished blotting up his spilled coffee. He retrieved his mug and followed them into the dining room. Oliver went to fetch his newest girlfriend who'd gone in search of the powder room. Brunch was a pleasant affair that reminded Tommy of happier times in his youth. Thea chatted about her college classes, groused about some of her professors, and mentioned an internship she was hoping to get in the spring. She'd really settled down from her wild-child days in high school, though she assured Tommy she still knew how to party. Oliver's current fling gushed about the romantic trip he'd surprised her with a couple weeks earlier. She had curly black hair, was kind of leggy, and Tommy had already forgotten her name. Tommy and Thea had a bet going that she wouldn't last another two weeks – Thea felt one week was optimistic. Oliver smiled at his girlfriend whenever she patted his arm and grimaced behind his cup when she called him sugar. Tommy tried not to laugh at his friend's expense.

"What about you Tommy?" Moira asked with a kind smile that hadn't reached her eyes in years; "Did you enjoy your volunteer work?"

That was so like the matriarch of the Queen family. She never wanted anyone to feel left out at a gathering. She'd had a sadness about her since her husband's death four years ago, where only Oliver had miraculously survived. Yet she still went out of her way to look after Tommy. She was basically a second mother to him. That was why he only told her about the better days and the victories he'd had abroad.

"My apologies," Raisa, the Queens' housekeeper and Tommy's other surrogate mother, said after knocking on the door frame to get their attention; "Mr. Thomas has a phone call. The hospital."

A few minutes later, Tommy wished he'd stayed in the dining room, in that peaceful moment before his world crumbled.


	2. Part Two

**Disclaimer** : The usual ones apply.

 **A/N** : Since I'm slightly paranoid, I'm rating this chapter M due to the third scene. It's not very graphic, but better safe than sorry.

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Part Two

The sun crept out the day of Rebecca Merlyn's funeral, a weather-friendly day meant for wearing anything but black. Tommy hated wearing all black. For the funeral, he dressed in a black suit and shirt with the turquoise tie his mom loved to see him wear. "It brings out your eyes," she'd told him, holding it up to compare. His father frowned at the display of color but said nothing. Malcolm Merlyn wore nothing but black, every day of the week. Father and son stood side-by-side, but a sea apart, as they laid to rest the most important woman in their lives. Rebecca had picked out a simple but elegant casket, mahogany with vines carved along the sides. Malcolm had her casket entombed in a black marble vault studded with mother-of-pearl.

Malcolm hardly said five words to Tommy; "Son," when they met in the funeral home and "We'll speak later," as he left. Tommy had nothing he wanted to say to his father and no desire to hear Malcolm's opinion on his life choices – any conversation his father wanted could be delayed for years for all Tommy cared. The pastor gave a beautiful eulogy. Several of her coworkers and friends spoke of her compassion and optimism, her humanitarian works, and the love she gave her community. Malcolm declined to offer any words, but Tommy had something to say.

"My mom was a great person. She was all those things you said, but so much more. I like to think I knew the best version of her. Because she wasn't just my mom, she was my friend. She was my staunchest supporter, my confidante, and she always, always saw the best in me, even at my worst. - - - The world has dimmed with Rebecca Merlyn gone. Goodbye Mom."

Tommy's throat tightened uncomfortably as he squeezed back tears. When he stepped back, to rejoin Malcolm, Moira stepped forward and wrapped him in a hug. He sagged into her embrace. She rubbed his back in slow, soothing circles. When he regained his composure, he hugged her tighter for a heartbeat and then let her go with a soft thank you. He caught the dip of another frown on Malcolm's face. He didn't care. Malcolm had been ice for as long as Tommy could remember. His father wasn't likely to change now.

The funeral party dispersed after they laid roses on her vault. Tommy remained even after Malcolm left, sunglasses back in place. Moira stood on one side of Tommy and wrapped her arm around his waist in silent support. Oliver stood on the other side and placed a hand on Tommy's shoulder. Oliver's shades were gone, and his eyes red. Thea disappeared for a minute. When she returned she had a bouquet of daisies that she set on top of all the roses. For a second, Tommy would've swore he saw Rebecca standing on the other side of the vault, vibrant and full of life again. She smiled at him and blew a kiss, then shimmered out of existence. Tommy let his tears fall.

SR*SR*SR

Tommy would've preferred to host the reception at the Queens' mansion. Moira would've graciously allowed his request, he knew she would've. Unfortunately, for appearance's sake, they held the reception at the Merlyn manor. Malcolm was notably absent, but his cold presence permeated Tommy's childhood home. Oliver kept Tommy company as he received everyone's condolences. Moira oversaw the caterers and Thea guarded the drinks Tommy would need to get through the rest of the afternoon.

He shook another sweaty palm, barely heard the "sorry for your loss," and murmured his response automatically. Then Tommy blinked and realized the line of sympathizers had ended. It was just him and Oliver standing awkwardly in the foyer with a case of sterile, white roses. Tommy felt a headache brewing behind his eyes. He rubbed his face tiredly and loosened his tie an inch.

"Ready for that drink now?" Oliver clapped him on the back.

"You go ahead. I need a minute."

Oliver went to find Thea while Tommy headed for a nearby powder room. A red-eyed, sad-faced man met him with a hopeless expression. Tommy looked away from the mirror. "This too will pass Tommy," he could hear his mom's whisper in his head. He closed his eyes and turned on the faucet. His head started to pound. He splashed water on his face and reached for the hand towel. His fingers met air. He squinted, grabbed the white towel, and dabbed at his face. He glanced at the mirror and saw the man in chains behind him.

"Christ!" Tommy spun around, but it was only him in the bathroom.

Pain spiked through his cranium. He grabbed at his head. Then he found himself elsewhere. He stood in a basement, poorly lit and damp. The man from the news was strung up against the wall. His body shook with silent sobs. Tommy reached out a hand without thought. His fingers brushed icy skin. The man's head lolled back; his eyes had been gorged out, his throat cut. A black bird pushed its way out of the man's mouth and flew at Tommy's face. Tommy brought his hands up to protect himself. Then he found himself cowering in the bathroom of the manor.

Tommy dropped his hands. His headache, oddly enough, was gone. He chalked what he'd seen up to grief and stress, just his imagination playing tricks on him. Tommy straightened his suit and went to drown his sorrows in some very expensive scotch.

SR*SR*SR

Three women knelt in a circle of bones. They wore shear linen gowns that ended midthigh and nothing more. Not one of them flinched as blood splattered onto their faces, arms, and gowns. Angry, red welts danced across their backs and black scars covered their chests and limbs. The more powerful witch among the three hefted a big knife while the other two chanted in a guttural, unpleasant language.

The knife sliced cleanly through the chest cavity of a creature not quite human, but not fully a wolf. The body had once been a man trapped in chains. The man whose eyes were sometimes yellow, sometimes blue. The man who was once a wolf in a park. The man from the news. From collarbone to navel, the dark-haired witch cut a deep, straight line. Blood sputtered and oozed from the rapidly cooling body. She peeled back the skin on either side of the incision and stuck one hand into the body.

There was a squelching noise, then out popped her hand with the dead man's heart. One of her companions held up a bowl without ceasing in her chant, the leader dropped the dripping organ into the container. Then she reached back into the body with both hands, she dug in deep, up to her elbows, and yanked. Out came the man's intestines. The dark-haired woman deposited those into a larger dish that the third witch offered. Then all three women started a faster, more menacing chant. The crimson knife flashed again.

"The time has come."

SR*SR*SR

The nightmares refused to stop. In fact, they seemed to grow worse each passing day after Rebecca's death. Tommy no longer dreamed of his time in the third-world country. His every resting moment was consumed with the pain and suffering of those he didn't know and had never met. Tommy almost wished to go back to his old hauntings. Those at least he understood.

He stood again on the street he'd dreamed of the last two nights. He couldn't see any street signs, not that he'd be able to read them in a dream. He did however recognize an old brick warehouse with a painted mural of the city's history on one side. That warehouse had been featured in local papers years ago as part of a citywide youth initiative to encourage interest in the arts. The street ran alongside the warehouse in a more crime-ridden section of Seattle. The sun peeked out, just after midmorning.

He watched as a black man in sweats and an old Army t-shirt walked down the sidewalk, a gym bag over his shoulder. A sound distracted the man who looked behind him and at the side streets. A cat shot out from under a Dumpster and ran into another alley with a hiss. The man shook his head at his own jumpiness and resumed his walk. A cloaked figure slipped out from a side street, behind the man. A blade flashed. The figure stabbed the man in the back. The knife struck again, higher up on his back, and the man collapsed to his knees.

"Tomorrow," a voice whispered in lustful anticipation. That same voice had been counting down the days since this particular nightmare began.

The figure pulled back the man's head and drew the blade across his neck. Blood sprayed everywhere.

Tommy jerked awake in a tangle of sheets. The clock read 2:30 in the morning. He didn't bother trying to get back to sleep.

Dawn found him sketching on the couch in his borrowed room. He'd picked up the hobby in his undergraduate studies, a way to help him understand the human body better. He sometimes worked on landscapes but enjoyed sketching faces more. He had an album of portraits of patients from his time abroad; some of them he'd saved, some he'd lost. He'd wanted to share those pictures with his mom, he'd known she'd understand. He'd never get the chance now.

Tommy rubbed at his eyes. He was so tired. He looked at the sketch he'd been mindlessly working on for the last half hour. He stilled. The face of the man from the city block stared back at him. Tommy ripped the sheet out of his pad, crumpled the paper up, and tossed the sketch into the garbage bin. He tucked away his art supplies in the fancy case his mom had bought him and left his room.

He found Raisa in the kitchen and sat with her as the coffee brewed. She clucked over him not getting enough sleep and offered to make his favorite meal for dinner that night. Tommy took her up on that offer. With his second cup of joe in hand, he wandered out to a patio that overlooked the Queens' expansive backyard and pool. The air was crisp and refreshing and he wore a jacket to ward off the early morning chill. Returning from his pre-dawn run, Oliver found him on one of the pool chairs.

"What's got you up so early?" Oliver dropped into the chair next to him.

"A dream I can't shake," Tommy shrugged as if it were no big deal.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Oliver asked, but Tommy shook his head no; "After my dad died, I used to dream about him a lot. I didn't want to talk then, but I found it helped to visit him."

Oliver left him to his thoughts and headed to shower before breakfast. Tommy finished his second cup and returned to the house. He paused in the doorway and instead of heading back to the kitchen, he took the stairs to his room. He had some place to be.

SR*SR*SR

Tommy borrowed one of Oliver's cars and drove into the heart of Seattle. He found his way to the building from his dream. There was no man on the sidewalk, dead or alive. The sun though wasn't high enough. Tommy parked the car and waited. After a few minutes of tapping on the wheel, he got out of the car and leaned against the hood. The car he'd borrowed was low-key and he was dressed casually in sweat clothes and a jacket. He couldn't see anyone out in this area currently, but even if someone could see him, he didn't scream 'lots of money.' He felt reasonably safe from any potential hold-up. He spent the next several minutes convincing himself that he was insane. Nothing was going to happen.

Then he spotted the walker. The man ambled down the sidewalk just like in the nightmare and he was headed in the same direction. Tommy had good eye sight but from two blocks away he couldn't make out distinct facial features, not enough to know if this man had the same face as the one he'd sketched hours earlier. The man wore the right colored sweats and the same shade of shirt as in the dream. He carried a gym bag over his shoulder, the same way Tommy had envisioned. The man strolled closer, Tommy took two steps away from the car. It couldn't be the same man.

Metal struck metal, clanging loudly and echoing from an unclear direction. Tommy jumped. The man stalled and checked his surroundings, behind him and the side streets. A tabby cat bolted from underneath a green garbage container, hissing, and streaked across the street. Tommy lost his breath as the man shook his head at his own frightened behavior. Sweat pooled in Tommy's palms. No, this couldn't be happening.

The man continued walking down the street. Tommy found he was frozen, unable to call out a warning. Now was the time for the cloaked figure to appear. None did, but a woman with long, dark hair stepped out of an alley. The same alley the figure had exited in the nightmare. She stalked up behind the man without him noticing. Something glinted in her hand.

"Behind you!" the words tore from his throat. Tommy sprinted towards the man, pointing.

The man heard him. Spun around. The knife aimed for his kidney caught him in the gut instead. The man backhanded his attacker without good aim and stumbled away from her. She dropped the knife as her head jerked to the side. She scowled, seeing her victim still standing and a witness running closer. She scuttled back into the shadows. The man dropped to his knees, clutching his injured side. Tommy reached him seconds later. This he knew how to handle. He tore off his jacket and put pressure on the wound, easing the man onto his back.

"Hold on there. I'm calling for help," Tommy said calmly. The man grunted, watching everything behind Tommy's back. Tommy dug out the new phone he'd purchased the other day, keeping one hand on his makeshift bandage. With steady fingers, he dialed 911. It had been real; his nightmare had come true! How?

SR*SR*SR

The uniforms held Tommy near their patrol car while the scene was secured, and detectives called. The bus had already taken John Diggle away; Tommy had asked the man his name, among other questions, to keep him distracted during the wait. Tommy had asked for some wipes afterward, to clean Diggle's blood off his hands. As he continued to wait to give his statement, Tommy ran through the story he was going to tell, because he certainly wasn't going to mention the nightmare that had brought him here.

Onlookers began to gather, speculating about what had happened. Tommy wondered how many of them had seen the action from afar and would come forward. He rubbed his hands up and down on his arms. With his jacket gone, he was starting to feel the chill that permeated the fall day and mostly cloudy sky. He must've missed the detectives' arrival, there were plenty of vehicles coming and going now, and a reasonable quantity of moving bodies. One moment he was alone, lost in his thoughts. Then a hand on his shoulder brought his head snapping up.

"Whoa, easy there," a blonde removed her hand from his shoulder.

She was beautiful. Hot, actually, but Tommy tried not to objectify women anymore. She looked vaguely familiar, but Tommy couldn't place her. She wore her hair in a bun, a nice blazer, and matching slacks. Tommy blinked in surprise at the golden shield on her hip. She appeared much too young to be a detective. "I'm Detective Lance. You're Thomas Merlyn?"

"Doctor. Dr. Tommy Merlyn."

"My apologies, doctor," Detective Lance replied with a downward quirk of her lips at his dress. As if to say, appearances can be deceiving; "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Do I really have a choice, detective?" Tommy asked respectfully. She offered him a small smile.

"Walk me through what happened here today."

"I saw Diggle walking down the street. Then this woman came up behind him with a knife. I yelled a warning. He turned around and she stabbed him, just under the twelfth rib and to the side. She ran away, and I applied pressure, called 911."

She had him go through the events twice more. Then started asking for more details; did he see where the woman came from, where she went? What happened to the knife? Somethings Tommy couldn't recall, others he remembered at her inquiry. "Did you recognize the woman? Have you ever seen her before?"

"No," Tommy answered honestly, shaking his head.

"What about Mr. Diggle?"

"First time we met was today. Didn't even learn his name until after I called for a bus," that was mostly the truth too. He wasn't going to volunteer that while sleeping he'd seen John Diggle die.

Detective Lance nodded and added a few more lines to her notepad. "What were you doing in down in this part of town?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're a Merlyn, this isn't exactly your stomping grounds," she arched an eyebrow.

"I've been away, was driving around to refamiliarize myself," Tommy lied. She wrote something else in her pad but didn't question his answer. Instead she pulled out a card and scribbled on the back before handing it to him.

"Thank you, Dr. Merlyn, for your help. If you think of anything else, please don't hesitate to call me," then she offered him a flirtatious grin; "And if you ever just want to talk, my personal cell is on the back."

Tommy flipped the card over and there indeed was another number with her name underneath: "It was nice meeting you, Dinah." He gave her his most charming smile.

Ten minutes later, Tommy sat in Oliver's car, driving back to the Queens' home. He fingered Dinah's business car prospectively. What an odd morning he'd had. Woken by a nightmare that almost turned true; he'd saved a man's life, twice, and gotten the number of a gorgeous detective in the process. Well that last one wasn't so odd, but normally he had to work for a number a little more and he'd never been flirted with at a crime scene before. Overall, a very unusual morning, which he had no desire to repeat, but he wouldn't mind seeing Dinah Lance again.


	3. Part Three

**Disclaimer** : See previous chapters.

 **A/N:** Reviews let me know how I'm doing and where I need to improve. ; )

* * *

Part Three

The long, dark-haired witch who'd tried to kill John Diggle strode into the formal sitting room of her coven's house. The four other witches waiting for her immediately quieted. A livid scowl marred her otherwise beautiful face and the murderous air she projected warned the weaker witches in her coven to tread with care.

"Helena, what's wrong?" the bravest, or perhaps most foolish, of the other witches dared to ask. She was a red-head with a deceptively innocent-looking expression named Carrie.

"John Diggle lives," Helena spat, pacing back and forth in front of a large fireplace. A fire roared into being at the snap of her fingers. A face formed in the flames; a narrow-faced man with a twelve o'clock shadow, pale eyes, and short dark hair. "This man saw through the cloak. He saved Diggle and thwarted our plan."

The witches hissed. Then one wanted to know; "How could he see through the cloak?"

"I don't know, but we're going to find out. We will learn his name and then we will learn his secrets, by any means necessary," Helena crooned, and her coven-sisters cackled with glee.

"What of our other objective?" Carrie asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

"We'll strike again, but this time we'll aim closer for the heart," Helena pronounced.

She knelt on the floor and the rest of the present coven quickly joined her, forming a circle. Then they began to plan again.

SR*SR*SR

"You know, I was beginning to think you weren't going to call," Dinah wore her hair down and a warm smile. They'd agreed to drinks at a new brewery, something casual with no expectations.

"Yeah? Sorry for the delay. I had some personal matters to attend to," Tommy forced thoughts of his mom out of his head. Tonight, was about finding enjoyment again, remembering how to live in the real world. When he didn't elaborate, Dinah looked him over and commented; "Well, you clean up nice Dr. Merlyn."

He'd shaved off the stubble and finally had a couple nights of decent sleep with the help of some temazepam. He'd also worn his lucky black jacket. "What, no line for me?"

"If I said it's a crime how good you look, would you threaten to shoot me?" He quipped. Dinah laughed, despite the line. She did look great; in a dark red dress that hugged all the right places and gave him a perfect view of her legs. They took their drinks from the bar and grabbed a high table meant for two.

"You said you'd been away for a while. Do you mind if I ask where?"

Tommy leaned back in his chair, loosening up; "First, there was med school, then residency. I spent the last year abroad, working for Doctors Without Borders."

"Really? That must've been something. I've always wanted to travel the world and you got to do it while helping people."

"It was an experience, but if you're looking to travel overseas, wouldn't advise the country I went to. Not unless you enjoy an arid climate, limited fresh water, and the constant threat of violence from a dozen warring tribes," Tommy tried to keep his tone light. Memories buzzed in the back of his mind. Dinah didn't press for details. She understood to a degree thanks to her own job. She kept to his lighter tone: "So, not a ringing endorsement for traveling abroad."

"My buddy and I used to spend the summers abroad when I was pre-med. I made a lot of good memories that way, volunteering certainly broadened my perspective but the next time I go overseas I think I'll just stick to being the tourist," Tommy accepted the offered segue into a more pleasant topic.

"I see enough violence in my day job. I'm planning to go over some place tropical. White beaches, plenty of sun, and unlimited alcohol."

"Sounds like a nice vacation. I'd recommend Tahiti if you want the white beaches or Italy if you like well-aged wine," Tommy sipped his scotch. A genuine smile graced his lips.

"Tahiti and Italy, I'll have to keep those in mind when I finally get some vacation days," at Tommy's furrowed brow, she clarified; "I'm the newest detective in my precinct, means I get a lot of grunt work and my time off requests aren't a priority."

"How long have you been a detective?"

"About six months. I joined the force four years ago, right after college." Tommy looked at her impressed. He'd suspected she was young to be a detective, but now she'd confirmed it. She must've been driven and sharp-minded to have been successful so quickly – he wouldn't insult her by assuming anything else when he barely knew her. "What made you want to join? Not a judgement, just curious."

"I guess you could say the law is in my blood. I was pre-law in college and my dad was a cop. After my sister died, he buried himself in his work, and I followed." A sad smile curved her lips as she swirled her glass of wine, breaking eye contact for a breath. Tommy shoved back the reminder of his own recent loss. "I'm sorry."

"No, I am. Dead siblings really aren't a topic you bring up on a first date," she brushed back a loose blonde strand and pushed her wine to the side to focus on him again; "So, what about you? Why become a doctor?"

Tommy smirked at her; "If you're expecting a schpiel about wanting to heal people and take care of them, I'm afraid you're going to be disappointed. I did it to make my mom proud, to follow in her footsteps. Then I discovered I actually enjoy saving lives."

The hallucination hit him out of nowhere. One moment he was looking at Dinah, relaxed and enjoying himself, the next he saw a boy, maybe six-years-old, sleeping in bed. A frame next to the bed held a picture of John Diggle and the same boy, their familial relation undeniable; his son. A shadowy hand covered the mouth of Diggle's son. He woke with frightened eyes. Tommy clutched his head and found himself back in the bar. "Hey, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just felt a little light-headed is all," Tommy tried to shake the apparition. He gave her his most charming smile to distract her and himself.

"Maybe we should step outside," she offered him a sultry smile that promised more. She stood up and held out her hand; "Come on."

Things were progressing much smoother than expected with Dinah. He clasped her hand and let her lead him to the door. This was almost too good to be true.

SR*SR*SR

Tommy's errant thought ended up being correct. Things were too good to be true with Dinah. They walked to his car as it was closer. She ran her hand up the hood, admiring the Tesla. Then she leaned against the passenger door and smirked coyly at him. He invaded her personal space. She grabbed the lapels on his jacket and reeled him in. They kissed. Her lips were soft but demanding. Her nails scratched against his scalp, pulling him closer to her warm body. She was more aggressive than he was used to, but he found he didn't mind.

They pulled apart, breathing heavily. She loosened her grip on him, but he kept his hands on her hips. She nipped at his bottom lip with a breathless laugh. Then suddenly her face transformed. He found himself staring at a shriveled corpse with sunken cheeks and a ghastly gray pallor. Her hair was slicked-back tar. Her lips were gone, and she had a mouthful of rotted and missing teeth. Her eyes were lensed like a fly's and lipid black. Her expression filled with madness and malice. He reeled back with a yelp and as quickly as the atrocious face had appeared, it disappeared. Dinah's beautiful face observed him with a smirk. "So, you do have your second sight. Good."

Her words made no sense. What he'd seen made no sense. Tommy deduced the hallucination hadn't ended. "Listen Dinah, I don't think I'm well. Tonight, has been great, but I'm going to have to take a raincheck on the rest," he fished in his pocket for his keys and kept a wide berth from her as he headed for the driver's door. A trembling hand tugged his keys out. He may not have been in the best position to get behind the wheel, but after the sight he'd thought he'd seen, he needed to get away.

Hands shoved him up against his door before he could unlock the car. Then he was yanked around and pinned on either side. Dinah pushed into his personal space, unamused; "Back in the bar, what did you see Tommy?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he tried to push her away, but her stance was ironclad.

"You're a terrible liar Merlyn. You saw something and you're not going anywhere until I know what it was."

"You're insane! I didn't see anything!"

"No, you have your second sight, you just don't know what it is. How about I enlighten you?" Dinah grinned viciously. Her face remained beautiful and blonde, but her eyes changed into the glittering, cold lenses of an insect again. Tommy gulped.

"Let him go Laur – Dinah," Oliver barked from behind her. Then Oliver wrapped one hand around her wrist and hauled her off Tommy. She yanked her arm free and rounded on Oliver, snarling; "Stay out of this Queen."

"Leave him be, now is not the time."

"He saw something. I need to know what it was."

"Not like this," Oliver shook his head, firmly and displeased.

"I don't have time to wait, to do things your way," Dinah snapped back. Despite her aggressive stance, she made certain to keep a foot or more between her and Oliver. They seemed to have forgotten Tommy was present and cognizant. "I didn't see anything!" he lied, confused and still freaked out. They glanced in his direction.

"Do you see what you've accomplished in your haste?" Oliver sighed, and Dinah sneered; "Go, I'm not going to let you hurt him."

Dinah took half a step towards Oliver, almost ready to fight. Then she grimaced as a glow emitted from Oliver's skin. She backed off, pivoted. She stalked away, cursing.

SR*SR*SR

Oliver took Tommy's keys and bundled him into the passenger seat. Then Oliver revved the engine and started for the Queen mansion. It was nighttime, but Oliver still sported his shades. The easy grin Oliver normally wore was gone. A stoic, focused, and intense man had replaced his childhood friend. They barreled down the roads, remaining a steady ten miles over the speed limit the entire ride.

"What was that back there?" Tommy demanded after his apprehension faded. Oliver sighed and muttered a soft curse.

"I didn't want to have this conversation so soon. You're not ready. I wanted to wait. To let you come into your gift and figure out part of the truth on your own. It would make things easier to accept."

"You're not making any sense Oliver. You're as bad as Dinah. What are you trying to say?" Tommy rubbed a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I'm not like Dinah," Oliver replied gruffly; "She's a demon."

"She was aggressive and temperamental back there. Even seemed a touch unhinged for a bit, but I wouldn't necessarily compare her to a demon."

"I'm not comparing. You asked for the truth Tommy, that's part of it. Detective Dinah Lance is a literal demon." Tommy waited for the punch line. Waited for Oliver to crack a grin and hassle him for nearly falling for the prank. He didn't. "This isn't funny Oliver."

"And I'm not joking. You saw her true form, her desiccated spirit. That's the demon possessing the real Dinah Lance," Oliver returned to a mild lecturing tone.

"How do you know she's possessed?"

"Because I'm not human either," Oliver replied after a pause. His tone changed to apologetic and he refused to look at Tommy; "I'm what's commonly called an angel."

Tommy rolled his eyes and scoffed; "Yeah and I'm Buddha."

"I'm not an angel in the biblical sense anymore than Dinah's a testament demon. Our kinds were mistaken for those creatures in the beginning and those are the names most consistently given to us."

"Then what are you?" Tommy couldn't believe they were having this conversation like it was a rational topic.

"There are other worlds besides the earth, not just in space. These worlds exist on different planes; dimensions that rest alongside this one but can't be seen or touched. There are certain intersection points between the different planes, where traveling from one world to another is possible. Sometimes physical crossings are possible, other times only a conscious mind, a spirit, can make the journey. I come from one of these worlds, Dinah comes from another, and there are beings from other worlds besides ours that also inhabit the earth."

"Right, and I'm supposed to believe all this because for a minute there I saw a woman's eyes change color," Tommy shook his head in denial.

"Look at me Tommy," Oliver commanded and unbidden, Tommy obeyed. Oliver removed his sunglasses and his eyes glowed a blinding white. Tommy saw a being of pure light. He cried out and covered his eyes. When Tommy could see again, Oliver's eyes were back to normal and his shades tucked across the neck of his shirt.

"You're a prophet Tommy. You have the gift to see otherworldly beings for what they truly are. You can also see the future."

SR*SR*SR

Tommy dreamed his was back in the dim, damp basement. Only the body of the man from the news was gone. His chains remained hooked to the wall though, glittering threateningly. Tommy wasn't alone in the basement. Soft sobs echoed behind him. He turned around, which felt like swimming in molasses to accomplish. Darkness half covered a little boy crying on the floor. He forced his feet to move, to get closer to the child. He knelt and tried to reach out a hand, but encountered a resistance, an invisible wind that held his fingers at bay from the boy's shoulder. The boy hiccupped and looked up. The boy stared right into Tommy's eyes and he recognized John Diggle's son.

"Did my mom send you?" the boy asked hopefully; "Tell her I want to go home. I don't like this place, it's scary."

Tommy opened his mouth, to try and speak, though he didn't know if he could. A shadow moved behind him and Diggle's son looked scared. A voice barked: "Who are you talking to?"

Tommy woke after the sun had risen. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes. He'd taken the sleep medication the night before, but clearly that had stopped working. "Do you always mumble in your sleep?" Thea asked unexpectedly. Startled, Tommy tugged his bedsheet back over his chest, even though he was fully dressed in his pjs. Resting on the arm of his couch, Thea chortled.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy harrumphed.

"Ollie said you were having trouble coming to terms with your new reality. Asked me to help convince you."

"Not you too," Tommy groaned and flopped back onto his pillow. Was everyone around him going insane?

"Yes, me too," Thea agreed, and hopped off the arm rest. She stalked over to his bed.

"Thea?"

She'd bent down at the bottom of his bed, near a leg. A second later Tommy found himself a good three feet closer to the ceiling and he hadn't stood. Thea held him and the bed in the air, about shoulder height, as if they weighed no more than a twenty-pound weight. She grinned at him as if this was a perfectly normal feat for a petite young woman. "Put me down!" She complied. Tommy hopped off the bed and pressed his back again the wall, trying not to hyperventilate.

"You…and the bed!" his arms flailed; "How?!"

"Not all the beings that come from the other worlds are friendly. The earth had to develop defenses, protectors. Humans with unique gifts, like you and me. You're a prophet and I'm a hunter. Do you need another demonstration?"

Tommy fiercely shook his head no. "Good. Now, are you ready to tell us what you've been seeing?"

He'd gone on a date with a demon. His best friend was some kind of angel. His best friend's kid sister was a hunter, whatever that was. And he was now a prophet. Tommy didn't want to believe, but he suspected Thea wasn't going to give him a choice. Besides, if what they said was true, then Diggle's son needed help.

Tommy reluctantly nodded.


	4. Part Four

**Disclaimer** : I don't own _Arrow_ or the _Lion King_. I'm just borrowing for fun.

 **A/N:** Only one act left to go in the pilot episode. Constructive reviews are appreciated. Thanks.

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Part Four

Tommy told Oliver and Thea about his dream involving Diggle's son; a vision they called it. Then he had to back track to explain who John Diggle was and the vision he'd used to save John's life. Oliver and Thea weren't certain if he'd seen a distant future or one already playing out. Though Oliver knew what a prophet was and some of a prophet's abilities, he'd never met one before, and Thea had only heard of prophets in passing. "There's no point in making guesses when we don't know what's going on. We should go straight to the source," Thea cut in when Oliver started speculating why someone would be after the Diggles.

Tommy had learned the name of the hospital where the ambulance took Diggle from the paramedics. All it took was one call to learn that Diggle's wife had checked him out that morning. Oliver found John and Lyla Diggle listed in the white pages; Diggle was a rather rare last name. They piled into Oliver's low-key sedan and drove to the address on file. Thea wanted to go straight on the offense and push the Diggles hard for answers. Oliver reminded her the Diggles might be entirely human and unaware of the otherworldlies. They agreed to be discreet until they knew for certain. Tommy said nothing, still trying to wrap his mind around the supernatural world he'd discovered and trying not to cry hysterically from the terror this invoked. He'd just escaped a warring country and now it felt like he was stepping into another.

They parked on the street in front of a townhouse in a northern, more suburbia section of Seattle. Tommy climbed out of the backseat behind Oliver who spun his keys around his finger before pocketing them. They met Detective Dinah Lance on their way up to the Diggle home; she was on her way out. She had her hair back in a loose bun today and she carried her gun on her hip. She frowned at the sight of the three of them. Tommy still had trouble believing she was a real demon.

"Playing detective, now are we?" Dinah heckled Thea who'd taken the lead. Thea scowled right back.

"What are you doing here?" Tommy asked.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing," Dinah retorted, her tone still sharp.

"We don't have to tell you anything," Thea shot back.

"This little badge says otherwise," she tapped her gold shield; "Unless you want to be hauled in for questioning?"

"We're here to see how Mr. Diggle is recovering and if his family needs any help in this difficult time," Oliver spoke up, standing protectively in front of Tommy.

"Of course, you are, and I'm a banshee," Dinah rolled her eyes; "Fine, try your luck. It'll just be a waste of time. The Diggles aren't talking to anyone."

Dinah shouldered her way between the barrier of Thea and Oliver. She paused in front of Tommy, looked him up and down; "When this blows up in your face, remember I asked what you saw first, and I know what I'm doing."

"We don't need your help," Thea snapped, keeping a distrustful eye on the detective at all points.

"Your mistake," Dinah shrugged, then walked away.

SR*SR*SR

Lyla Diggle opened her front door, her short hair covered in a pale-orange bandana. She blinked rapidly in surprise at having three complete strangers on her doorstep. After Thea elbowed him sharply in the side, Tommy explained how he'd helped save John's life and they'd come to check up on him. When Oliver asked if they could come inside, Lyla wordlessly stepped aside and let them enter. They milled about her living room. There was a chestnut brown couch, a couple of chairs, one with a knitting basket next to it, and a giant, brightly-colored throw rug which Rebecca Merlyn would've loved. A selection of family photos lined the wall and tables. It was a cozy, inviting room and Tommy felt like a snake for intruding.

"So, how is John doing?" Tommy asked, feeling awkward, hands in his pockets.

"He's good. He's resting," Lyla nodded in the direction of the stairs.

"And your son? How's he dealing with all this?" Thea indicated one of the many pictures of a toothy-grinned boy.

"He's fine, glad to have his dad home," Lyla replied. Tommy thought he heard an underlining tenseness in her tone.

"Is he here?" Tommy inquired, because that was one of their main objectives. To learn if the kidnapping had already happened.

"JJ? No, he's at school," and this time, Tommy was certain her voice wavered for a hairsbreadth.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" Oliver piped in with a silvery smile. Lyla directed him to a half bath off her kitchen. Oliver thanked her and disappeared down a short hall, he passed the stairs on his way.

"Have the police any leads on why your husband was attacked?" Tommy tried to transition into their next objective. Lyla replied in the negative.

"Do you know why anyone would want to hurt your husband?" Thea jumped straight for the jugular. Apparently, without Oliver there to keep a leash on her, she preferred to stick with her original plan of pushing for answers.

"No, of course not," Lyla shifted into a defense stance, arms crossed; "John's a good man. All his students love him, and he volunteers at the youth center on the weekends to teach basketball. That's what he'd been doing when someone decided to try and kill him," Lyla all but snapped the last sentence out, but Thea didn't care. She kept on the offense.

"What about your son? Who might go after him to get to you or your husband?" At that, Lyla Diggle noticeably paled.

"JJ's fine. He's just a boy," she denied, her voice soft. For a heartbeat, Tommy thought she was going to breakdown and cry, but the Lyla stiffened; "I don't know what you're trying to suggest here, but I don't appreciate it."

"We apologize for the intrusion," Oliver returned and shot a glare at Thea; "We'll just be leaving now. We hope your husband has a speedy recovery."

Then Oliver ushered them out the door and back to his car under Lyla's watchful, stressed gaze. Thea stayed quiet until they were about a block away. "Why'd you stop me? Something otherworldly was definitely going on in that house and instead that entire excursion was a bust," she groused from the backseat.

"Not entirely," Oliver replied mysteriously. Then he held up a stuffed, blue rabbit.

SR*SR*SR

After Oliver made it clear he was protecting the newly awakened prophet, Dinah resorted to her detective skills. Merlyn's timely intervention in the assault on John Diggle seemed more likely to have been vision-led than lucky coincidence. Add in the fact Mr. Diggle claimed shock-induced amnesia of the attack, and no one had been able to spot the knife until Merlyn pointed out the weapon, and Dinah smelled a witch. A witch wouldn't try to kill under a cloak unless something important was going on, so Dinah decided to re-interview the Diggles without her partner present. Technically, she'd been off-duty at the time, but they didn't need to know that.

She'd asked Lyla Diggle about her son on a hunch. She was told he was at school, but that seemed rather unlikely with his backpack and lunch box sitting next to the kitchen counter. When she confronted Mrs. Diggle, the woman had clammed up. But Dinah had known she was on the right trail to figuring out the witches' game. The arrival of Oliver and the others only confirmed her suspicions. A pity the hunter was so distrustful of her offer to help. Oh well, the tracker she'd snuck on their car would help her keep an eye on them. If her research turned up nothing, they might still lead her to the witch in their blundering attempts to play Sherlock Holmes.

"Lance why are you digging into Lyla Diggle?" Detective Lucas Hilton asked peering over Dinah's shoulder to look at her computer screen. He was her dad's older partner and when she'd managed to secure a transfer to the Major Case division, he'd volunteered to be her partner and show her the ropes.

"Since John Diggle came up clean, I thought his wife might've been the real target. Killing him could've been about sending a message to her."

"That's a possibility, have you got anything yet?" Hilton smiled proudly at her. At least this time he hadn't made a comparison to her father.

"Before she married, Lyla Michaels testified against Frank Bertinelli. Her testimony sent him up state for fifteen years and ruined his family's business. She's continued to receive threatening letters from his family and even took out a restraining order against his son, Frankie, last year."

"Now that's a good lead Detective Lance. I think its time we had a chat with Frank Jr."

Dinah shrugged into her gray blazer and followed Hilton to their assigned car. The name Bertinelli was more than a lead to Dinah. It was the proof she needed, and she understood exactly what was happening. The time had come.

SR*SR*SR

Oliver set the blue rabbit onto the table. They'd commandeered the Queens' rec room after Oliver explained how he'd seen signs that JJ Diggle hadn't been home in a couple nights. When Tommy had asked how he'd managed to slip upstairs and back down with no one noticing, Oliver had grinned: "Trade secret."

"And how exactly does this help us?" Thea gestured, unimpressed, to the rabbit.

"I found this on JJ's bed. Looked like it might be his favorite toy," Oliver explained, and when Thea shrugged, he elaborated; "Tommy should be able to get a vision of JJ. If we're lucky we'll get an idea of where he is now or where he will be. Maybe we'll find out who took him, if nothing else."

"Sounds like a good plan, there's just one tiny problem," Tommy pointed out; "I have no idea how to control my 'visions,' as you say."

"But you've had visions before, when?"

"When I'm asleep, mostly."

"Are you suggesting Tommy sleep with the rabbit?" Thea suggested, then snickered at her double entendre. Tommy glared at her.

"No, all he needs to do is relax," Oliver interrupted their glowering contest.

"Well that shouldn't be too hard then," Thea quipped with a playful grin.

Turned out finding a way to relax Tommy required some regressive thinking. He tried clearing his mind of all thoughts first, then Thea taught him some yoga, and he attempted to rest on the couch without falling asleep. In mild exasperation, Oliver stuck Tommy on the couch with the toy bunny in the crook of his arm and turned on the television. The _Lion King_ started to play. Tommy and Thea were singing along to "Hakuna-Mata" when the vision doubled him up.

He was back on the street with the brick warehouse and its mural wall. This time it was night, the streetlights that still worked just flickering on. Lyla Diggle walked purposefully down the sidewalk in the orange bandana she wore that morning; her face was taunt with stress and fear. She carried a slim box under her arm and appeared to be muttering under her breath. After a glance around the vicinity, she ducked into an open door at the warehouse.

Inside the shadows grew, but Tommy could still see enough. Lyla's purposeful walk stuttered into a careful shuffle forward. She paused near the mouth of an overhead crosswalk. The dark-haired woman who'd attacked John melted out of the darkness, she pulled JJ with her but kept a firm hand on his shoulder. Lyla held out the package she carried and held her other hand towards JJ.

The vision faded before Tommy could see what happened next. He shoved the blue bunny away from himself and massaged his forehead. The headache quickly faded as he related what he'd seen. "Now what do we do?"

"We stop that exchange and rescue JJ," Oliver declared. Yeah, Tommy had had a feeling he was going to say that.

SR*SR*SR

Frank Bertinelli Jr ended up having an alibi for the time of the attack on John Diggle, which put him half the city away. However, a helpful, nosey neighbor informed Hilton and Dinah of a recent argument between Frankie Jr and his sister, Helena, over someone named Michael, possibly Michaels. The busybody put the argument happening a day after John Diggle was attacked and said Helena stormed away vowing she wasn't done. That made Helena Bertinelli their new prime suspect and put Dinah in a bit of a bind. She knew what Helena was and intimately understood the risk of trying to arrest a witch. It would be best for all involved if Helena simply disappeared, permanently. And Dinah knew just how to accomplish that, all she needed to do was find the witch first.

Tracking down Helena's whereabouts proved difficult by legal means. Not that that meant Hilton and Dinah were giving up after one afternoon of searching. Lucas though called it a day when their shift ended, certain they needed some rest and a fresh perspective. Dinah wished him a good night, then checked her phone and swore when she saw Oliver and his merry band were on the move again.

Dinah shadowed them back to the street where she'd first met Merlyn. Once there no detective work was required. This close she could sense all three of them; Oliver a painfully bright blot against what remained of her soul. She found the door they used to sneak inside, then jimmied a window and ghosted up a set of stairs. She preferred an overwatch position when she wasn't certain what was going to happen; easier to observe without being seen and leave if she didn't want to fight. She traced the anti-hex amulet she'd bought in blood. She was prepared no matter what happened.

The same could not be said for the bumbling trio below her. The hunter carried a stake and silver dagger on her person as well as a crossbow fitted with salt-loaded quarrels. All useful weapons when dealing with most otherworldly beings, Dinah included, but not witches. Oliver was apparently relying on his supernatural durability, forgetting there were some magics he wasn't immune to. And the prophet, he was so green he still reeked of denial. She could've warned them but didn't see the point. If they couldn't survive a minor tussle with a witch, then they were of no use to her.

Dinah watched as they spread out to hide. Based on Merlyn's gesturing she guessed he'd seen the main action happening below the walkway she crouched on and a pace to her left. Dinah shifted her position to gain a better line-of-sight and remain out of view. The little Queen disappeared under the crosswalk, but Dinah heard her clamoring into a crossbeam a short while later. Oliver positioned Merlyn at the double doors to Dinah's left, behind a conveyor belt and can seamer, farthest from the potential action – the warehouse had last been a canning factory before closing its doors for good. Oliver took cover in the main floor office, the second closest position to the meeting area after his sister.

Dark power heralded the arrival of Helena Bertinelli and two of her sisters. Dinah saw Oliver stiffen when he sensed the building power. He stepped of the office to signal the danger to the hunter in a shorthand Dinah didn't know. He hid from even Dinah's sight a second later, deep in the office. Then the black magic users shadow-walked into the building, right where the prophet had predicted. JJ Diggle puked on arrival, the dark power not agreeing with him. The witches wrinkled their noses in disgust. Helena jerked the boy in front of the mess and kept a strong grip on his shoulder. He whimpered. Dinah gritted her teeth, silently snarling. The two other witches took positions on either side of the crosswalk. One was ebony-haired, she stood near the door behind the floor office. The other, an unnaturally white-haired woman, stayed close to the door Oliver and the others had entered through. Dinah recognized the white head: Chien Na Wei. Both witches cast powerful cloaks. Strong enough that even with her amulet, Dinah could only see faint outlines. Oliver and his sister would be completely blind to them, as would anyone else outside their coven, except for a prophet. Unfortunately, he was too inexperienced with the occult to realize what had just happened, thereby negating any advantage he'd held.

Lyla Diggle skittered into the warehouse maybe ten minutes later. She skirted around Chien Na Wei, probably aware of the dark magic even if she didn't suspect what it held. The sight of her son under Helena's clutches only made the stress lines in Lyla's face deepen. Dinah nearly hissed when she sensed the powerful object under Lyla's arm. How had a woman like her come to posses something so powerful? Did she even realize what she had? The danger it posed? And how foolish was she to believe black-hearted witches would honor any deal once they had their hands on the object they desired?

"Stop there," Helena commanded when Lyla was within a few yards of her and JJ.

"Please, I brought it as you asked. Let my son go," Lyla held up the packaged relic in one hand with the other she reached pleadingly for her child.

Oliver must've sensed danger, because he chose that moment to act. He burst out of the office, a burning sword of light in his hand. He cut in half the tendril of a hex – Dinah hadn't even seen it forming, how clever. Then chaos descended. The hunter dropped from her hiding place, shooting a bolt at Helena. A shield caught the quarrel and burned it to ash. Lyla Diggle reached for her son, fingers snapping a counter-hex against the shield. JJ jerked against Helena, trying to run to his mom. But Helena's grip pinned JJ to place and a hex from behind tossed Lyla off her feet. Chien Na Wei and the ebony-haired witch tightened their garrote.

Oliver and his sister blocked the ebon-head. They seemed to be relying on his ability to sense imminent danger as a means to deflect the witch's attacks, even though they couldn't see her. Lyla rolled to her feet, the relic still clutched under her arm. She cast her own shield and engaged Chien Na Wei in a spell battle; she may have been blind to the white-haired witch's exact location, but she could see the curses flung her way and returned fire. After a hungry glare for the package in Lyla's care, Helena enacted a cloak around herself and JJ, having decided this fight was already lost. This cloak wasn't as strong as the others, so Dinah could still make out their blurry bodies when Helena started to haul JJ to the third exit, passed the conveyor belt.

The air crackled with power and hexes. Sparks flew, and booms rattled the warehouse as the combatants danced across the floor using their preternatural abilities. Merlyn should've been freaking out and cowering the entire time at the sudden exposure to an otherworldly clash. Instead the fool poked his head up in time to see Helena pushing JJ out the door. He saw that his allies were otherwise engaged and then made the stupid decision to play hero. Dinah grumbled under her breath; she needed him alive, that was all, the only reason she put herself at risk. She jumped from the crosswalk into the melee below.

Dinah landed on her feet, her off-duty weapon already drawn and chambered. She took aim and fired. Blood sprayed as her bullet nicked the ebon-haired witch's arm – now the hunter would be able to use the blood scent to attack head on. Then Dinah turned to wave at Chien Na Wei. She distracted the white-haired witch long enough for Lyla Diggle to blast her with a hex that fractured her cloak. Finally, Dinah charged after the wayward prophet.

She found him up to his ears in trouble. Or more accurately she found him on his knees, clutching his ears as Helena Bertinelli stood over him, chanting. JJ Diggle looked on in terror. Dinah raised her weapon and cocked it. Against a witch as powerful as a Bertinelli, her gun wouldn't do much damage. She fired anyway. The projectile caught Helena in the shoulder, forcing her back a step and wrecking her incantation. Helena shot a curse at Dinah. The anti-hex amulet glowed and countered the magic. Helena glowered at Dinah. Dinah smiled icily in return.

Helena backed away first, cast a spell with her free hand, then shadow-walked JJ and herself to safety. The sounds of a fight continued back in the warehouse, though not as ferociously as before. Dinah hauled the prophet to his feet, then half-carried him back to her car. She kept a magic malady kit in the trunk and he certainly needed it. This would've been a lot cleaner if he'd simply told her what she wanted to know the other night. Bloody do-gooders.


	5. Part Five

Usual disclaimers apply.

* * *

Part Five

Thea and Oliver found Tommy half-sitting, half-sprawled in the backseat of Dinah's classic, dark green Impala coupe. They watched as Dinah pulled a brown leather tote out of her trunk. Oliver smiled grimly, glad Tommy was okay, but Thea reached for another quarrel. Oliver's hand shot out and forced the crossbow down. Dinah sneered at them as they approached. "A little azoth for the green bean," she shook a glass jar, then stalked over to Tommy. She extracted one square of the vile-looking gray substance, shoved it into Tommy's mouth and told him to chew. He grimaced but obeyed. Color started to return to his face almost immediately, despite the disgusted face he was making.

"What happened?" Oliver asked, keeping a hand on Thea's preferred weapon.

"Greenie here tried to take on a daughter of the night. He's lucky she decided to play with him first," Dinah replied airily while shutting her trunk.

"Lucky?" Tommy countered, pulling one hand back from his ear to show them the blood congealing there.

"You would've been dead if I hadn't shown up," Dinah retorted, then added; "She got away with the kid."

"We injured the witch we were fighting, then she ran. The other one slipped away, and so did Lyla Diggle," Oliver reported. Then Thea elbowed him. "Why are you telling her anything? She's a demon!"

"She didn't have to help us, but she took the risk. She didn't have to save Tommy either, but she did," Oliver pointed out calmly.

" _She_ also knows about the coven we just met and managed to make it to this meeting without the help of the prophet," Dinah grinned smugly, though Oliver wondered about her last claim; "If you'd let me help you when I first offered, all the dark witches would be dead and little Diggle would be safe in Mommy's arms right now."

"Unlikely," Thea sniffed. She'd lowered her crossbow though, of her own volition.

"Don't assume you know me because you've been a-hunting for all of five minutes little girl," Dinah snarked back.

"Enough. Are you still offering to help?" Oliver interrupted firmly, directing his question to Dinah. She pouted at him for ruining her fun, then sighed, and acknowledged her willingness, in this one case.

"Well I'm not willing to work with her," Thea glared. She at least refrained from brining her bow back up. Oliver sighed and reminded her; "We cannot take on an entire coven alone."

"Are you sure Oliver? I know I'm new to all this, but being a demon doesn't really inspire trust," Tommy eased out of Dinah's backseat. He'd scrubbed away the worst of the dried blood and his natural color had returned.

"The object Lyla was carrying, I recognized it. We cannot let that coven get their hands on it, which means we need every advantage we can get if we're going to stop them and rescue JJ," Oliver reasoned.

Reluctantly, Thea and Tommy consented to his logic. Dinah smirked the entire time and Oliver wondered if he'd live to regret this decision.

SR*SR*SR

The demon detective admitted that she didn't have an address for the coven that held JJ; only knowledge about their practices, the source of their power, and many of their names. That annoyed Thea as she wanted to storm their castle, so to speak. Then the detective suggested forcing a vision out of Tommy, but Ollie disagreed. He decided that they would question the Diggles again and Thea almost wanted to object because going on them easy again wouldn't get answers. Thea gagged instead when the demon voiced a similar opinion, Ollie scowled and insisted threats would not be necessary; he truly believed the Diggles would accept their help against the coven. Tommy sided with Ollie and they set out for the Diggle home – the detective taking her own car, which Thea silently acknowledged was a pretty sweet ride. On the way over, Thea again suggested ditching their temporary ally. Ollie refused, and Thea wondered when he'd become the boss of their little group.

"Open up!" the detective banged on the door. When a harried Lyla Diggle answered, the demon pushed her back inside; "We're coming in, to talk."

Tommy and Ollie followed the detective, apologetic. Thea tromped in last and shut the door after a cursory check of the neighborhood. No otherworldlies in view, good.

The Diggles' living room was crowded with five adults tensely standing off. Prompted by the commotion, John Diggle limped to the doorway that led back to the kitchen and stairs. Tommy frowned, his doctor showing, at the sight of the injured man. At least Tommy didn't try to lecture Diggle on straining his injury. The glimmer of gold in Diggle's eyes told Thea he was made of hardier stuff.

"What's wrong detective?" John asked, playing dumb. Thea snorted and spoke before the blonde-haired demon could: "Let's cut the bull. I know you're a lycan and your wife's a sister of the moon. I'm a hunter and if your wife hasn't mentioned it yet, Ollie's an angel," Thea pointed at her brother for clarification; "Tommy's a prophet and she's a demon."

Neither Lyla nor John batted an eyelash at her hunter status or the truth about Ollie and the detective. Tommy being a prophet did get a blink out of Lyla, but there was no need to cover that he'd only just awakened. A good thing Ollie had explained there were two types of witches, the black magic sort called daughters of the night and the more natural, benevolent types who were known as sisters of the moon; Tommy didn't look bewildered at Thea's identifications. Her brother's friend did however look startled at the idea that John was a shapeshifter, but he noticeably restrained himself from asking any questions. He understood that they didn't have time for idle chatter.

"We know your son was kidnapped by Helena Bertinelli and her coven. We know they want to trade him for that object you brought to the warehouse," the detective added, shooting an unamused look Thea's way. Thea refrained from sneering back, just barely – she hunted demons for a living, she couldn't believe she'd let Ollie talk her into working with one. The blonde continued; "Do you realize what you nearly handed over to the most powerful night coven of the west coast?"

"I know it's powerful and that in the wrong hands, such power is dangerous. I don't want to hand it over to daughters of the night, but I am not willing to sacrifice my son for a relic I know nothing about," Lyla defended her actions.

"We aren't asking you to risk your son," Ollie interrupted in his most soothing voice; "May we see the device?"

Lyla looked to John who's nose flared, no doubt testing their scents for negative emotions. Thea wasn't certain how good his sense of smell was, she'd been told some lycans could scent deceit – not that they were lying about JJ Diggle, but she wondered how much he could tell about them. John nodded his head. Lyla skirted to their kitchen and from under the sink she brought out the box she'd carried earlier. She opened the box and slid the relic into her hand; a black silk cloth cradled the object so that she didn't have to touch it directly. Thea couldn't sense magic or auras, but from the scowl on Ollie's face and the squinting Tommy did, she knew the relic had to be giving off some major juju. To her it looked like a clunky piece of metal. There were six diamond-shaped squares; grouped together in threes, they appeared to make two downward arrows, and in the center of each diamond was a small indent about the size of a dime.

"What is it?" Tommy asked.

"A _concurret_ _orbis_ – a key to opening portals to anywhere from anywhere," Ollie never took his eyes off the relic. The look on his face was almost pained; "Remember how I told you that there are some places where the otherworlds intersect with the earth? Well, with the right kind of power, this device would allow anyone to open an intersection to any of the otherworlds from their own backyard. How did you come to possess this?"

"About a decade ago, before I met John, a hunter asked me to keep it safe for her. It was only supposed to be for a few weeks, but she never came back for it."

"A hunter? Which one?" Thea wanted to know. She'd never heard of a hunter protecting such a device, but then not everything a hunter did was written down.

"I didn't get her name," Lyla shrugged. Her answer told Thea she didn't know much about hunters, which meant she wouldn't be of much help. But if a hunter had once been involved with the orbis, then Thea had a duty to find out why and protect it at all costs. This mission had become personal now.

"You can't hand the orbis over to the coven. Let me finish," the detective held up a hand when the Diggles went to object; "They will only kill you and your son once they get what they want, they're not the kind to leave loose ends. Trust me, I've dealt with them before. They're not just daughters of the night, their power is derived from filicide."

"And that's a problem why?" Tommy inquired, sparing Thea from asking.

"They kill other witches in their family, even the warlocks, to absorb their power, and they've been doing it for centuries which means the weakest of them still has the power of at least three witches," the demon explained. Lyla paled and reached out a hand for her husband, fearing her chances to get their son back. She knew then she was lucky to have walked away from the first skirmish.

"That's why we're here. We all want to help you get your son back and keep the orbis away from this coven," Ollie assured them; "Will you let us help?"

Lyla and John looked at each other, having a silent conversation. They appeared to reach an agreement, they turned to their uninvited guests. Then Lyla Diggle collapsed.

SR*SR*SR

Lyla found herself standing in a room of skulls, a pit of screams bubbled to her left. She knew this wasn't a real room, but a manifestation meant to intimidate her, and it was working. Lyla pushed her fear down and focused on all that mattered, getting her son home, safe and sound. Vehement shadows brushed close to her, wanting to burn her with their touch but unable to get close due to the wards she wore.

"You were told to come alone," a voice hissed behind her. Lyla pivoted to face the dark-haired woman who'd taken her son from her; Helena Bertinelli all grown-up and more powerful than when Lyla first met her.

"I did come alone, I didn't invite the others. I don't know how they knew to be there," Lyla spoke the truth. In spirit-form lying was exceptionally difficult to do; the spirit often giving away the deception.

"Do you know who any of them are?" Helena demanded. Shadows swirled around her like a living, screeching dress.

"The blonde woman is a detective, Dinah Lance, she caught my husband's case," Lyla offered. She hadn't realized the detective was a demon until the warehouse when the woman had landed on the ground floor, her eyes black and lensed. If Dinah had tangled with Helena's coven in the past, then the daughters of the night already knew she was a demon. There was no need to let Helena know that she knew the full truth about Dinah and since Lyla had some experience with spirit-communications, she knew how to hide her omission.

"What of the others?" Helena pushed. Lyla wondered why.

"The angel and hunter visited my house earlier with the man who helped save my husband's life, they said their names were Oliver and Thea," Lyla admitted reluctantly. She hadn't seen the doctor at the warehouse, though she suspected he'd been there.

"His name, the man who saved your husband, what is his name?" Helena asked hungrily. So, it was the good doctor she was after, which implied they didn't know who he was and possibly what he was. His identity gave Lyla leverage, though she didn't usually stoop to such methods, her son's life was on the line.

"I'm not here to talk about the man who stopped you from murdering my husband, I'm here for my son. I still have the object you want, it for JJ, those were the terms before."

Helena snarled at being denied the information she wanted, but she couldn't hold the spirit commune forever. Already her manifestation was weakening, the skulls around them fading into transparency and the pit barely whimpering. She had to decide, the relic or the doctor. "Bring it here at midnight tonight, no uninvited guests this time or your son will die a slow, painful death," Helena hissed at last. Then the manifestation faded, and Lyla was shown a marble family crypt, the name Bertinelli in blood red. The vision shifted to the edge of the cemetery and Lyla saw the name. Then she awoke.

"Lyla, honey?" John leaned worriedly over her. When she moved to sit up, he moved back and helped her to her feet.

"That was Helena, she wants me to bring the orbis to her family's crypt at midnight tonight. Please, help us," Lyla looked around the room, knowing she was out of her depth.

Dinah and Oliver took charge of the planning. Dinah knew enough about cloaking spells to ask about the kind of sacrifice that would've been needed to hide a witch from a lycan – Lyla had never performed a sacrificial cloak before but understood the magic needed to counter it. Lyla told them another lycan would've been needed to power such a spell and John mentioned the missing man in the news, Conklin, was a lycan. An otherworldly sacrifice explained the powerful cloaks the daughters had used at the warehouse, which meant the coven would be able to make more until they used up the sacrifice. That would be their greatest threat when going up against the coven; only two of them would be aware of any extra bodies and only one of them would be able to tell the difference to warn the others. But Lyla had an idea for a potion that might even the odds and Thea had weapons that could be used against witches, which were more effective than off-duty pistols.

Oliver and Dinah decided that their best strategy would be to find where the witches were keeping JJ and attack before the meeting in the graveyard. To that end, Dinah took John back to the warehouse to track the scent of the witch she'd shot – even a bleeding daughter of the night couldn't risk shadow-walking with an open wound, the shadow creatures would tear her up alive. Oliver volunteered to go with Thea and collect the weapons she thought they would need in a preemptive strike on the coven while Lyla requested Tommy stick with her to help with the potion. She would need a little of his blood to give the rest of them a touch of his second sight.

"Do you mind if I ask, how exactly does one become a witch?" Tommy asked, watching Lyla boil herbs in a regular metal pot on her kitchen stove. At Lyla's befuddled look, Tommy sighed; "I'm new to this, like this morning new."

"Oh, wow. And you're going up against a coven of the night," Lyla shook her head in amazement, "I'm surprised you're taking this so calmly."

"I spent a year in a warzone, I've learned to compartmentalize," Tommy shrugged with a careless shrug that might've been more believable if his shoulders weren't so tense. Lyla stirred the concoction she was brewing and added a little cinnamon, there was no rule that potions had to taste disgusting. "To answer your question, witches aren't made the way angels and demons are, we aren't hosts or possessed. Witches are born, but not the way prophets and hunters are – we aren't humans with extraordinary gifts. Witches and warlocks are only half-human, lycans are the same but from a different kind of magic."

"You look human to me," Tommy scanned her over as if searching for sudden horns or a tail.

"Like I said, a different kind of magic that courses through my blood. I practice conduit magic, I use my power to transfer energy and magic from one source to another, but I don't absorb the way the coven does. Except for when I'm casting a spell, you'd never be able to tell what I am."

"Okay, this may be another dumb question, but if you're a witch and John's a lycan, what does that make JJ?"

"Mostly likely a wolf like his dad, warlocks are rare, but we won't know for sure until he's older," Lyla smiled tenderly at a picture of her son pinned to the fridge.

Tommy touched the photo she was looking at and suddenly stiffened. He shook his head a few seconds later and turned to her. "I saw him, I saw JJ. He's scared but alive and I think he's somewhere with a lot of trees because I smelled sap."

SR*SR*SR

Between Tommy's vision and John's tracking, they found a little cabin in the park on the edge of the city. Night had fallen, and midnight was fast approaching, when they all convened on a hill upwind of the cabin. A light drizzle had ended, making things miserable as they squatted on the side of the hill, out of sight. Lyla handed out small cups of the potion she'd brewed and gave it to everyone but Dinah and Tommy.

"Are we sure this is the place?" Thea asked softly.

"The witch's scent lead straight here, this could be a trap, but I can smell JJ too and his fear is fresh," John replied.

"If this is a trap, it's a well-protected one. There's a reason I gave you explicit instructions on how to reach this hill, it was the first passage through several wards that I found," Dinah lectured irritably; "And provided that potion worked, in a few minutes you should see the witch who's patrolling around the cabin, as if there's something valuable inside."

As predicted, a few minutes later a witch did appear, walking about the outside of the cabin her eyes scanning the vicinity carefully. To Tommy, she appeared clearly – a light brunette with long legs and in a school girl's uniform of all things; though she was young she wasn't that young. To Dinah, she was a well-defined human form but nothing more, and to the rest she was almost a translucent apparition, her head and chest the clearest in detail with her hands and feet all but vapors. The witch stalked around the cabin, then disappeared into a small thicket of trees beside the west wall. Based on previous observations, the daughter of the night would likely spend a good five minutes in the trees before completing another circuit and vanishing back inside the cabin. Thea calculated the distance from the hill to the cabin and decided to use the opportunity. She rose to run, only to have Lyla jerk her back down.

"Do you see that murky line running across the bottom of this hill?" Lyla pointed to an unnatural string of darkness. Thea hadn't really noticed it in the sporadic moonlight. "That's a spellwire, an early warning system for the coven. And see that knot of black magic a few feet beyond the hill, on the most direct path to the cabin, the one around a small dip? That's likely a spellnet primed with a trap."

"What kind of trap?" Oliver asked.

"Maybe a cursed object or poison, possibly even conventional weapons," Lyla indicated the short sword Thea had brought even though the magical version of a Molotov she carried would be more effective against the witch. The binding shackles she'd given to Lyla, as they wouldn't be easy to get on a witch without a bit of magical help.

"No curses or hexes?"

"Not likely, those require focus and visualization. They have to done on the spot, they can't be delayed for an unknown amount of time."

"And where there's one, there's probably more," Dinah scanned the rest of their approach and spotted two more traps.

"We need to disable them, or the witch might use them against the rest," Oliver looked to Dinah. She grumbled, but agreed; "Lyla, Thea, you stand the best chance against the witch. Kill her if you must but try to get the shackles on her first so that we can question her. Tommy, you go with John and get JJ."

They all agreed to the plan, though Thea scowled at being bossed around again and at the implication she needed a reminder not to kill first. Tommy took a deep breath and mentally pinched himself to remember this was not a dream. Lyla and John shared a determined, grim smile while Dinah looked at all their tenses faces, caught Oliver's eye, and rolled her eyes.

Oliver and Dinah didn't wait for the patrolling skirt to start a new circuit. They headed down with less than a minute before the witch left the thicket. They jumped the spellwire and Dinah activated the first trap which Lyla had spotted. A black goo oozed out of the small dip and surrounded Dinah's feet. The leather of her boots started smoking, and Dinah pulled out a packet of calcium which she liberally sprinkled into the goo until it dried up – she could've used crushed bones, but calcium pills were easier to buy. Oliver reached another spellnet and ducked to the side when a shade popped out swinging. The shade was a trapped spirit, given form through a binding ritual that forced the being to serve the coven. Oliver summoned his sword of pure energy and severed the shade's legs, ending the spirit's entrapment – the spirit sighed as it vaporized.

Thea and Lyla followed only seconds behind the angel and demon. They skirted a trap which Dinah took on next, a set of cursed manacles slapping around her ankles attached to a collar that she batted away from her neck. Lyla and Thea surprised the brunette witch as she left the thicket. Lyla cast a hex, her fingers curling into a claw, and the daughter of the night was blasted to the ground. Thea brought her short sword down, the flat side aimed for the witch's head, but her blade glanced off a shield. The brunette's hand swept in a half circle, fire erupted at Thea's feet and she rolled to the side to dodge. Lyla snapped her fingers; the flames blew towards the other witch. Thea hauled out the magical fire bomb, seeking a flaw in the black magic user's shield before she lobbed the device.

Meanwhile, John hauled Tommy to his feet and they eased their way to the small cabin. John's side twinged, but he pushed on. Normally, he would've been healed by now, one of the benefits of being a lycan, except the blade he'd been struck with had been cursed. Lyla had drawn the curse out of his body, but the process had taxed him. It would be a few more days until he was back in shape, but at least the witch hadn't used silver. Then he would've been no use to his son. Oliver had John and Tommy pause only a couple strides from the door. The angel set off another hidden trap and took an arrow to the shoulder for his trouble. Tommy moved to treat his friend, but John pulled him back on task. "He's an angel, he'll heal."

Tommy and John stepped into the main room of the cabin. Outside the fighting continued as the rain started again. Dinah and Oliver worked swiftly to disable the remaining traps, the daughter of the night summoning one to her – a sword that engaged Thea. The main room was a combined kitchen, dining, and living room; cramped and cold. There were two other doors. John motioned for Tommy to stay behind him. Then he opened the first door. A bathroom; empty. They shifted over to the second door. JJ was curled up on the bed inside. Relief spread through John at the sight of his boy unharmed. He forgot caution and rushed into the bedroom to rescue his son. Tommy held back at the door, a particularly loud explosion had him swinging his head back to the entrance of the cabin. He saw nothing and turned around in time to see Helena bearing down on John's unprotected back. She clutched a silver dagger in her hand and this time she aimed for the quickest kill.

With a wordless shout, Tommy launched his body at the dark-haired witch. They bumped into the edge of the bed, grappling over the dagger. JJ cried out. John hushed his son, and yanked the blanket on the bed over JJ, telling him to stay. Helena slapped her free hand against Tommy's chest and he flew back into the wall. Thea's spare protection amulet burned against his neck as he struggled to catch his breath. John charged Helena, his eyes glittering more gold than brown. His injury prevented him from fully transforming, but he still had his strength and speed. He clocked Helena on the chin and she staggered to her knees. John wrestled the silver from her hand and tossed the biting metal away. He wrapped his arm around her neck, preparing to snap the bone. A quick death. Better than she deserved after attacking him and threatening his wife and son. Only John's wound flared; pain spasmed up to his arm and his hold loosened. Helena inhaled and evoked a one-word spell.

An invisible hand yanked John off his feet and sent him crashing through the interior wall into the living room. He stayed down. Helena climbed to her feet and stalked around the bed towards Tommy. He rose shakily to his feet to face her head on, even though he had no idea how to defeat her.

"I don't know who or what you are, but I am going to make you scream for the trouble you've caused me," Helena raised a finger in his direction. Tommy flinched, remembering the pain of their last encounter.

Suddenly, a collar twinned around Helena's pale neck. Manacles snapped from behind her and latched onto her wrists. Helena careened into the bed, lost her balance, and landed on her rump on the floor. Dinah pranced into the room, clucking; "You know the irony about demon-chains? They were built by demons to be used on the lesser races. Others may have learned how to use them against us, but you don't know all their secrets the way we do."

Helena snarled and made to rise to her feet. Dinah snapped her fingers and Helena convulsed, howling. The whites of her eyes rolled forward and Dinah smirked gleefully. Outside the cabin a woman shrieked. Helena dropped to the floor, unconscious. Then all was silent.

SR*SR*SR

Clouds mulled across the sky a couple days later, the long shower the meteorologists had predicted would likely happen before the afternoon. Tommy paid the sky very little attention as he stood over the freshly churned dirt in his sunglasses. He spoke to a quiet audience:

"It was oddly sweet, seeing the Diggles reunited. They'd just fought this unbelievable battle and were injured, but the moment they had JJ in their arms, nothing else mattered," Tommy gave a half smile at the memory. Lyla had been streaked with mud and sweat, charging into the bedroom. John had bruises forming and he'd popped his stitches, but they'd wrapped a tearful JJ in a big hug, blanket and all.

"The other witch, not Helena, she died. Thea says she burned herself out on a curse she couldn't control, not sure if I believe her. We had to leave her body, to get out before the rest of the coven arrived. Dinah and Oliver brought Helena with us. They tried to question her, but it was no use. Dinah wanted to kill her, but I refused to be an accessory to murder. Lyla found a way to bind Helena's powers and Dinah arrested her for the kidnapping and attempted murder."

Tommy still wasn't convinced that the detectives would be able to make the charges stick, but Dinah and her partner seemed confident they had a decent case. Lyla had given a statement about the kidnapping and ransom, making up a story about Helena wanting money instead of the orbis. JJ appeared to know what secrets he had to keep, and Helena Bertinelli wasn't saying anything. So, maybe the arrest would stick and that was the last Tommy had to deal with her and her coven of the night.

"After everything, I don't understand how Oliver and Thea went back to acting like their normal selves. As if the otherworldly part of their lives only exists when they want it to. And now that I know the truth, I wonder how I didn't see it all before," Tommy looked down at Rebecca's grave; "Why didn't you tell me sooner Mom? Is there a way to make the visions stop? Or did you have this secret second life too?"

For a heartbeat, he saw a glimmer of his mother standing above her grave. She reached for him, her mouth moving, but he heard nothing. Tommy shook his head and walked away. He would find no answers among the dead. He didn't see the frustration and worry that enveloped Rebecca's face before she faded again.

Tommy slowed when he spotted someone waiting near his Tesla. Then he relaxed when he recognized Lyla Diggle. He nodded politely to her as he approached; "Can I help you with something?"

"You can," she held out the slim box in which she'd carried the _concurret orbis_ before; "I need you to take this, to protect it. When the hunter picked me, I had no personal ties in the city that could be used against me and I understood the danger of the power, even if I didn't know what the relic was. I have a family now, and as the past week has shown, they can be used as leverage against me. I can no longer be trusted to protect the orbis at all costs."

"Then why don't you give it to Thea or Oliver? They know more about this kind of stuff than I do."

"And they can be used as leverage against each other and so can their mother," Lyla shoved the box into his hands. The orbis weighed more than it looked; "Hide it and pretend it doesn't exist. The coven doesn't know what you are, which means they won't expect you to have it. Please."

"Alright," Tommy carefully tucked the box into the crook of his elbow. He'd always been a sucker for beautiful women asking his help; he was cliched like that.

"A word of advice, Dr. Merlyn," Lyla said after she started to walk away; "Don't trust anyone who deals in the otherworldly business, you never know which of their secrets will come back to bite you one day. This includes those you call friends."

SR*SR*SR

One by one the three remaining witches fell to the floor. They were naked and bleeding. Their voices hoarse from screeching. Their master had not been pleased with their failure. They had cried in blood, promising they would not fail again. The time had come.

"What do we do now?" Carrie sniffled.

"We must continue the path laid out for us," Chien Na Wei answered stiffly.

"How? Sarah is dead, and Helena imprisoned. We are weakened," the ebon-haired daughter moaned.

"Enough Isabel, we three are enough. We must keep our focus on the end goal and not let trivial matters dissuade us. The orbis can be retrieved later and Helena will be brought back into the fold once she serves out her punishment. We must move onto the next phase. Time moves swiftly against us, we must be ready."

The Rising had begun.

* * *

 **A/N:** This concludes the first episode. The second episode will be a separate story, titled _Shadow Rising: Sight Unseen_. I'm about halfway done with that episode so it should be up soon. Constructive criticism helps me improve and positive reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading.


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